Fix This
by psych-itssupernatural
Summary: Sam's in Hell, Dean is at Lisa's, and is lost without his baby brother. Until he finds a note, and discovers Sam is still helping him, even from the Cage.
1. Chapter 1

"Son of a Bitch," Dean shrugged off his work gloves, set his wrench on the floor and took a long drink of his beer. Usually whenever Dean was feeling out of it, working on his Chevy impala, his baby, could snap him out of it, but today it just wasn't working. Dean just couldn't stop thinking about where Sam was, and with Lisa and Ben at her sisters, there was nothing to distract him. "UHH," he slammed his fist into to the worktable in anger. _This was really screwed up. How did it get to this?_ He loved Lisa, and sure, Ben was great, everything you'd want in a kid. But, for the longest time, Sam had been his only family, he wasn't sure he wanted that to change. Not like this, not with Sam in hell.

His mind drifted back to the look on Sam's face, "it's ok Dean, I've got him, its ok." It had hurt when Sam had punched him, hurt like hell. After all, he'd taught the kid to throw a punch, and if he'd worried about Sam being soft, he needn't worry any longer. _Damn, that kid could pack a wallop,_ Dean rubbed his jaw ruefully. Cas had fixed him up, but he could still remember the feeling, the pain.

"I'm right here Sammy," Dean had tried to let his brother know he was still there, he still loved him and wouldn't leave him there, trapped in his own body. He remembered when Meg had possessed Sam. The kid had been terrified to sleep for the longest time, afraid something was going to take him for a joyride again. He felt horrible Sam had to go through it again, this time worse, Lucifer himself. _God, the kid could never catch a break._

He remembered how hard he had worked to keep Sam's childhood innocence alive. _Ha_ , Dean laughed to himself, man he'd failed in that category. Sam had been him, tossed around by more supernatural creatures than anyone he know. Hell, the kid had been "chosen" at six months to lead the demon army. A boy who didn't have an inch of evil in him, Dean still found it hard to believe. _What did Sam do to deserve this? Any of this?_ A boy who would do anything if his big brother said so, and cried when he lost his library book in junior high. This was a boy who deserved a life, who deserved a family, and a dog and to have a future. _IT'S NOT FAIR! SAMMY DIDN'T DESERVE ANY OF THIS!_

He sighed and dug into the trunk of the impala. Working on the car wasn't getting him anywhere, so he might as well do some cleaning. Cleaning out the arsenal wasn't fun, but it had to be done. He had no use for it anymore, he promised Sam, no more hunting. Dean once again cursed as for saving him, and while he knew it wasn't Cas's fault, he was just helping, but Dean didn't want to be saved. Not even a little. Not unless Sam could be saved right along with him. Yet he had promised, and damn if he'd make a promise to Sam and not keep it. Especially not a promise this important. But with the arsenal, he planned to put it away, he could never destroy it or throw it out. Promises aside, this had been his and Sam's life for years, he wasn't about to toss it out like garbage. It was almost cleared out, just a couple old books he'd found in Sam's duffle, and some old charms.

Sifting through the pile, all falling apart and stuffed with notes and papers, Dean almost laughed. His geeky brother, he always loved research and school, of course his books would be read to pieces. Scooping up the heaping pile, Dean juggled them over to a group of boxes he was planning on putting in storage. As he made his way over, he tripped on the very wrench he had set down moments before. "Damn it," he grumbled as books toppled out of his hands. He dropped to his knees and started scooping up the various books. As he gathered the papers that spilled out of the worn bindings, he felt a lump grow in his throat as he stared at the familiar scrawl of Sam. Dean cleared his throat as he felt that prickly feeling build up behind his eyes, _no chick-flick moments, Dean._ That's what he always told Sammy, no crying, don't let them see you squirm. He rose quickly, dumping the books messily into the boxes, not caring how they fell, just needing to get them tucked away. _The Dean Winchester way of dealing with emotion_ , he thought wryly, _shove everything on the backburner._

Striding toward the impala again, Dean glanced around the garage and noticed a book he had missed hiding under the rear of the car. He bent and quickly scooped the book up, meaning to quickly toss it with the rest of the books, but as he grabbed it, a paper fluttered out. Sighing, Dean snatched the paper in midair and barely glanced at the writing. "What the hell?" He stopped and started reading, the words FORBIDDEN and HELL popping out at him. "What..tth," for the first time Dean read the title of the little black book he held. "FORBIDDEN HELL SPELLS."


	2. Chapter 2

"Sammy, what were you up to?" Dean wondered aloud… Flipping the notes over, his eyes grazed the page of carefully written notes, _it's a spell of some kind,_ but what really stood out to Dean was how neatly it was written. Sam was the type of person who wrote quickly and in his own font, but his was gingerly written. Every word carefully thought out and written, guaranteeing it was right. Dean didn't really think much of it until he read the small paragraph of footnotes at the bottom of the page.

 ****Dean's in gone, there I said it. I've tried so hard to deny it, to pretend he was coming back, hell, I've tried to pretend he was angry at me, hated me and just left my sorry ass, he has enough reason to. There's not much I can do, even with all the knowledge Dean and I have acquired, we still never knew much about hell. I wish I could take his place, I should be the one dead. I tried to bargain with the crossroads demon, that didn't work. But I'm not giving up, I think I've found a way to at least communicate with Dean. Maybe there will be a way for us to work together, if there was, Dean would figure it out. Dean's smart, always was better than me. That's why I should be dead, not Dean. Dean's got so much to live for. Dean could have a family, I see now that I could never be anything but a hunter. A demon, tainted forever. But Dean, he deserves a life. I've messed his life up enough. But I've found a spell… So if this doesn't work, or I somehow screw this up (since that always seems to happen to me) and end up dying, at least I'll be with Dean. Bobby, I'm sending this to you, in case I don't get out of this. Don't try to stop it or anything, he's my brother. I have to. I love him. Sam****

Dean's fist closed around the paper, crumpling it into a wad. Sinking heavily to his knees, confused and grieving, his mind turned to the Winchester autopilot…anger. "SAM, how could you even think of doing this," Dean fumed. He wanted to yell at Sam, tell him how stupid it was. The grief started to set in with the realization and remembrance of Sam's fate. "Sammy," Dean flattened the paper and looked at his brother's familiar scrawl.

And in that empty garage, Dean Winchester broke. He cried, for all he had gone through, his entire life full of sorrow, and he had never cried like this. Dean cried for his mom, dad and all their friends dead, the childhood he never had, but Dean mostly cried for Sam. The one person he couldn't live without, was in hell. The only person he loved more than life itself, gone. After it seemed Dean had cried for a lifetime, he quickly rose and wiped his eyes. Wearily he smiled, "you always did bring out the chick in me Sammy," he chuckled, speaking to an empty garage and the impala. His smile withered, "but tears and being a wuss aren't gonna save you from torture, from hell."

In that moment, all Dean wanted to do was hug his brother, talk to him, and see him, if only for a second. He glanced down at the paper, the spell crushed in his hand. In a split second, Dean made a decision. Looking back down at the paper, a bitter smile covering his face, Dean vowed he would see Sam again if it killed him.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean glanced at the spell. It was complex, like no spell he'd ever seen, and he'd seen a lot of spells. The ingredients seemed normal enough for a spell, he knew hunters who would have all of this, he couldn't ask Bobby of course, Bobby couldn't know. He would make a couple calls, some of John's old colleagues. Dean glanced back at the paper, it was the ritual, the words of enchantment that were different. He furrowed his brow, _were these even in Latin?_ It looked to be a code, some of the letters were. "Sammy, man I wish you were here," Dean sighed. _Sam would know how to figure this out, he always was the genius._ "Sam you geek," Dean chuckled thinking of his overgrown Sasquatch of a brother and how excited Sam always was when he had a puzzle to figure out.

Dean glanced back at the note Sam had written on the bottom of the page. _Sam, how were you going to figure this out? What would you do?_ Dean sat down wearily on a workbench, staring around the garage. His eyes came to rest on the boxes of Sam's books, _the notes, of course!_ Dean smiled, and quickly walked to the boxes, Sam wrote everything down. His passwords, any thoughts he had on a case, what he had to eat that day… As organized as Sam was, he couldn't remember all the little numbers and notes he thought. His mind was always running a million miles a minute. After John's death, Sam had started keeping his own journal of their hunts. Dean dug through the boxes of papers and books, _wish some of Sam's organization had rubbed off on him, he would be able to find stuff easier._ He pulled out books and rifled through each one, looking for clues on weird spells, or symbols.

2 hours, and 4 beers later, Dean was staring at empty boxes, and books and papers spread from one side of the garage to the other. He took a drink out of his fifth beer and sighed, _a whole lot of nothing, not one scribbled note on Hell or a book on crazy spells._ "Dammit Sam, give me something!" Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, and gazed at the mess spread before him. He grabbed the closest notebook and started rifling through it again before slamming it shut and tossing it into a box. He pulled the crumpled spell out of his pocket and read it for what seemed the hundredth time, _where else would you look Sam? You didn't want Bobby to know, so who would you call?_ Dean stood up, shoved the paper back in his pocket and strode towards Sam's duffle, he'd left everything exactly like it was when Sam was here. He pulled back the zipper and almost laughed at how empty it was. Sam never had much, they had always were moving from place to place, Dean's entire world was a car, a duffle and a tall, floppy haired kid. His baby, a few and Sam, that's all he cared about. All he cared about and now he had lost the most important thing on that list.

Dean cleared his throat, the memories flooding back as he pulled out items from the duffle. Sammy wore this shirt when they hunted a poltergeist in Utah, there was a rip in the right sleeve from where Sam had tripped and caught himself on a tree. Unfortunately, that tree contained thorns. Dean chuckled to himself, remembering how Sam had whined as Dean pulled thorns out of him. _Sammy, you knew how to get yourself in trouble._ He shuffled clothes around, looking for anything that could give him a clue. Dean pulled out Sam's laptop, a hunk of metal that looked more beat up than Sam after the hunt for a werewolf in Arkansas, which left Sam with a black eye, two broken ribs and a broken wrist. They had gotten him a new one after the car crash, and John's death, yet it still managed to look completely unusable. Yet Sam had used this thing to save lives, and solve cases. _Solve cases, of course, Sam used the internet for everything._ Dean flipped open the laptop, growling when the battery image flashed on the screen. _Dead, of course, like every other good thing in his life,_ Dean laughed at the irony of the image.

Dean pulled a tangled cord out of the bag, and hooked the laptop up to the nearest outlet. He grabbed his beer and hunkered down next to the outlet, flipping open the laptop, and typing in Sam's password. It was still Sam's birthday, _man was this kid trusting,_ Dean grinned as the computer whirred to life, showing a picture of Sam and him on Dean's 15th birthday, the two of them smiling as if they didn't have a care in the world. _Happier times Sammy, happier times._ Dean opened the internet and clicked on Sam's history, and bookmarks, looking back to the days when Dean was in hell, and Sam would have been searching for answers.

* **Ancient Greek Symbols and Spells*** Dean clicked on the link that was bookmarked 2 days after Dean was in hell. A website covered in pictures of Greek gods and goddesses, and lists of symbols. Dean ripped the paper out of his pocket, comparing the various text and drawings. _Sammy, even from hell you always had an answer._ Dean laughed out loud as he matched some of the symbols. This was it, these were the symbols, this was the writing. This was the key to bringing Sammy home. "I'm coming Sam. I'm gonna get you out of there." Dean practically shouted to the empty garage. He felt sudden tears come to his eyes, "I'm coming Sammy, hang on."


End file.
